A cup of coffee with my mom. Mom was just telling me a story about this hoarder that our family

knew very well, who needed help, but how do you decide? Like, when are you helping, mom,

and then when are you enabling?

It was really difficult for us because I knew him well. You know, he was employed. He had a good

job, but he was just a hopeless hoarder. His house was filled. His car was filled. His van was

filled. He had bought three storage sheds for his backyard.

They were filled. He kept saying, well, I'm going to start getting rid of some of this stuff.

He couldn't do it. He was mentally ill. And when he called us and said, I can't get into my kitchen. I've taken

off my pants with the bulging pockets and I've turned sideways. I can't inch my way through

the clutter in my kitchen. I can't get to my bathroom and my bedroom. I can't

fit in my car anymore. Could I just spend a couple of nights with you and then I'll come back in

the daytime and get rid of some of this stuff? Can I just bring some of my stuff with me when I come over?

At which he would have done.

I didn't know what to do.

I did write to a friend, and he's a minister actually, to see if he could help.

But in the meantime, I said, I am so sorry, but we're leaving in the morning.

We're going to Florida. You know,

sorry about that. Lyer. I didn't know what else to say because I knew if he came, he would not leave. He was not capable of leaving. You know, I'm not trained to deal with mental illness.

But you certainly know how to lie when your back's against the wall.

But I did put him on to this mutual friend of ours who was a minister.

Oh, good. Oh, really? Wow. Awesome. Are you guys still friends?

Well, he passed away tragically because of his hoarding. He couldn't get to his

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